by Jane Odiwe
Mrs Randall was looking at me with a most anxious expression. Despite the fact that the real world I knew was dimming into nothingness like the wisp of a dream on waking, I saw and recognized in her the traces of my own mother. I couldn’t help thinking about her and of how her life had been cut tragically short, robbing her of the chance to see her only child grow up, both denying us the friendship and love that forms such special bonds between mother and daughter. Sophia and her mother had been denied that relationship also. And, whatever I thought of Mrs Randall’s interference, even I could see that she had Sophia’s best interests at heart. There was only one way to reply. I took her arm in mine as we crossed the room.
‘Mrs Randall, I know you speak to me out of kindness and concern for me. My mother, I am certain, would have spoken to me in just the same way. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for standing in her place and I promise, I will never give you any cause for alarm or worry in regard to matrimony or anything else!’
Mrs Randall made no more comment, leaving me at Mr Elliot’s side before hurrying away to see to Emma. I knew I was changing, being taken over, body and soul. I was not myself and yet, I felt more like the person I should be than ever before. I was Sophia Elliot of Monkford Hall and the snobbish, vain and irascible Mr Elliot, I hardly knew, was as much my father as if I had known him forever. My own time and the people who belonged there were fading like the moving pictures on an old celluloid film. I’d so enjoyed the ball after all, though the real pleasure had been in spending time with the Austens, particularly Charles. When Jane called the next day with an invitation to go for a picnic to Beechen Cliff on Thursday, I didn’t hesitate. Getting permission to go would be another matter, but I decided it might be best if I didn’t mention that Charles would be coming with us. I stressed the fact that I would be going for a walk with the Miss Austens and was extremely vague about all the rest.
Thursday morning arrived with delphinium skies and sunshine. I’d been awake since the early hours thinking about the pleasures of the day to come and was soon dressed, hurrying down to the kitchen to beg whatever provisions I could for the picnic. Mrs Potting, the cheerful cook, let me have the seed cake she’d baked the day before, plus half the tray of muffins that had just come out of the oven, even giving me napkins and a basket to carry them in.
Thankfully, Mr Elliot and Emma felt happy about leaving me behind to go for their usual walk to the Pump Rooms. Emma’s desire to see Mr Glanville was very obvious and all I could hope was that he would be similarly attentive for all our sakes. They made a brief enquiry about my plans, but I knew neither of them was interested. Mrs Randall had not yet arrived from her lodgings to question me about where I was headed, so I looked forward to the day with mounting excitement. Sitting in the window of the drawing room, which looked out over the gardens, I knew I should be able to have sight of the sisters coming out of their door. But, as the time passed and no one came, I began to worry.
I ran downstairs looking for the housemaid, Rebecca, who soon told me that no one had called. Grabbing my pelisse and bonnet and hoping they’d forgive my impatience, I let myself out and presented myself at the door of number four.
‘You’ve missed them, Miss Elliot,’said the harried looking maidservant. ‘They left this last half hour, at least.’
I could hardly hide my disappointment. ‘Did they say where they were going?’
‘Up to Beechen Cliff, as far as I remember, Miss, though goodness knows why they want to go tramping up there in the mud and mire. Wait a moment, Miss Elliot. I’ll ask Cook, she’ll know for sure.’
The flustered maid tripped away down the corridor and I saw her vanish through the door at the bottom. I was left standing in the hallway, unable to believe that I was really in Jane Austen’s house. I caught my reflection in the looking glass on the wall. It still gave me a shock to see it wasn’t my own, yet try as I might; I couldn’t quite remember how I ought to look.
The console table had a gentleman’s black hat upon it. It looked just like the one I’d seen Charles wearing on that day in Sydney Gardens and I wondered if it belonged to him. Casting a furtive glance down the hallway I decided to risk picking it up to take a closer look. I saw them straight away. Where the hat had lain was a pair of gentlemen’s white gloves.
Then the door opened. The maidservant returned, rushing along the corridor with a beetroot face and barely audible from her huffing and puffing. ‘Yes, Cook says they’re not expected back until this afternoon. I’m sorry; Miss Elliot, I’ll tell the Misses Austen that you called. Good day.’
I was dismissed, and disappointed. I couldn’t think why they hadn’t called. Had I misunderstood? But, I was sure I hadn’t misheard and it was definitely the right day. It all seemed so strange. I stepped outside feeling really dejected. Perhaps Charles was embarrassed that he’d danced with me twice, or felt he’d singled me out too much. All that talk about love must have frightened him and he was letting me know in no uncertain terms that I should keep my distance. I was sure it must be something like that, though I felt hurt that even Jane had not called to try and explain about the reasons for now wishing to go on their own.
I knew then that I didn’t want to stay. I took the glove out of my pocket and turned towards Sydney Gardens where I knew I would find the white gate, hoping it would be unlocked. Yes, I know it was so very wrong of me to have stolen it, but the opportunity presented itself and I found I couldn’t do anything else.
Chapter Seventeen
Finding myself back in the twenty-first century was an enormous relief. The transition was as smooth as passing through a time portal could be, almost like walking through a garden gate at any other time. What was more, I felt energetic not drained like on previous occasions. I’d made a lucky escape even if I felt sad about leaving my friends, and in particular, I was sorry that I might never see Charles again. My heart tugged with an ache I didn’t want to recognize when I pictured him in my mind. But, perhaps it was for the best and if I was honest with myself, I knew I shouldn’t really be there interfering in their lives. I’d felt a dangerous attraction to Charles and the more I thought about it, the more I reconciled myself to the fact that I’d done the right thing. I’d got carried away for a moment. After my relationship with Lucas the last thing I needed was to be falling for someone else, especially a guy who lived in another time zone. Just thinking about that made me realize how ridiculous the whole episode had been and brought me instantly back down to earth.
It felt like coming home when I reached the flat and once I’d picked up some shopping I resolved on starting to work on my book. I’d need to do some research, which I fully intended to do, but right now I wanted comfort, some soothing consolation.
Picking up my old battered copy of Persuasion, I decided this would be the best place to start if I wanted to get things right in my head, and hopefully, it would also provide some inspiration or insight into Jane’s world. Spending the next few days reading and making notes was good therapy for the pangs of regret that surfaced every time Captain Wentworth’s name was mentioned or when Charles popped into my head. But I knew that locking myself away was not going to accomplish anything. I decided that joining the library would get me out into the real world, and help enormously with my research. Besides, I’d started feeling lonely, and I needed to see people again.
The very next morning I set off into town. I strolled along Pulteney Street in the sunshine thinking how lovely and familiar it all looked. Peeking into the windows of the charity shops, I was unable to pass by without looking at all the books on display. Suddenly, the sight of an old volume, opened up at the frontispiece, grabbed my attention and when I saw it, I felt goosepimples all over. I just had to go in. It was fetched out of the window at my request, and the red, cloth-bound book put into my hands. What struck me with a bolt of recognition was the engraving; a portrait of Jane Austen that I’d never seen before. Dressed in sprigged muslin, and carrying a parasol, there was the Jane that I knew
. It looked like a photograph, but I suppose that’s because it was in black and white. Younger, a girl of about fourteen perhaps, but with the same intelligence sparkling in her eyes and a hint of a smile lighting up her face as if amused by her thoughts. My eyes were immediately drawn to the text of the book and in the preface, one paragraph stood out above all others.
“Hence the emotional and romantic side of her nature—a very real one—has not been dwelt upon. No doubt the Austens were, as a family, unwilling to show their deeper feelings, and the sad end of Jane’s one romance would naturally tend to intensify this dislike of expression; but the feeling was there, and it finally found utterance in her latest work, when, through Anne Elliot, she claimed for women the right of ‘loving longest when existence or when hope is gone”.
So, the book was not going to give up any secrets about Jane, and it seemed I was not the only one to think that Persuasion must tell the tale of her one great love. I couldn’t wait to read more and looking through the pages saw that it also contained copies of her letters, which I’d never read in their entirety. Flicking through, I couldn’t find anything about Charles apart from his date of birth on a quick look, but guessed there must be more hidden within its pages. I must admit, there was a part of me that didn’t want to know what had happened to him, but I knew I could no longer avoid knowing the truth. I handed over my money, popped the book into my bag, and headed into town.
I’d just reached the bridge when I ran into Josh. When I say I ran into him – I did see him coming towards me for a few yards, but I could do nothing about it. There was nowhere to hide on the pavement. He’d seen me too and once he’d waved at me, I could hardly turn round and run in the opposite direction. I wanted to, of course, but the thought that the last time I’d seen him I’d made an awful impression made me stubborn enough to want to change that.
I was determined that he would see a person who was totally indifferent to him and not at all like the man chaser he’d assumed.
‘Hi, Sophie, I haven’t seen you for a while. How are you doing?’
‘I’m very well, thanks. And you?’
‘I’m well, busy with the exhibition, of course.’
There was an awkward silence, a feature that seemed to be increasingly prominent in our conversations. Josh smiled. He looked as if he might say something else, but then scratched absently at his cheek.
‘Right … well, I’m just going to the library,’ I said, tugging my bag up to my shoulder.
‘Oh, I see. I’m just out on a lunch break.’
I made a move to go and he spoke again putting out his hand, touching my sleeve.
‘I’d love it if you’d join me. Would you come? I really need to ask you something, a favour. It would mean a lot.’
It was impossible to refuse him, and I felt I ought to at least try and prove my innocence. He was being so nice and I must admit, I’d been feeling a bit lonely. I was also more than a little intrigued so I found myself accepting. I could always do my research later.
‘C’mon, we’ll go to the pub. It’s such a nice day, we can sit outside.’
My heart sank at the idea of going to the pub, but when we walked inside together Lara was very well behaved. Her face betrayed no symptoms of suggestion and there wasn’t even so much as a raised eyebrow as she took our order. That is, until Josh left me for a moment to talk to a neighbour. I tried to avoid speaking to her and looked the other way pretending I was interested in something on the opposite side of the bar. Lara was pulling a pint, her eyes on the glass, but I knew as soon as I saw the biting of her curling lips, that she was struggling to keep herself from smiling.
‘So, I hear you’ve met Josh at last,’ she said, glancing up at me with a mischievous grin.
I could only give her a look that I felt expressed total nonchalance on my part. ‘Yes, I have.’
‘I wondered why I’d not seen you for a while,’ she said. ‘I understand from him you’ve been enjoying cosy suppers together, that you’ve cooked for him. Is that right?’
I don’t know what made me smile then, but she was being so daft and conspiratorial about everything. ‘It’s not like that,’ I protested, shaking my head. ‘Josh and I are just friends. No. We’re merely acquaintances. We hardly know one another, we’ve only really just met.’
‘Does time alone determine how well you know someone or whether you fall in love with them? Seven years wouldn’t be enough for some people to know each other and seven days are more than enough for others. Martin and I were in love after a week, I certainly didn’t know him.’
‘Isn’t that seven days or years stuff from Sense and Sensibility?’ I asked.
Lara grinned. ‘It might be.’
‘Well, be that as it may, I am not in love with Josh. We are not in the process of knowing one another in any way. He’s probably just returning the favour of the one, single supper that I cooked for him.’
Lara raised her eyebrows at that and lowered her voice. ‘Well, he hasn’t taken his eyes off you since you walked in. He might be talking to someone else, but he certainly isn’t paying them much attention.’
I don’t know why I turned round, but I did and she was right. Josh was staring at me, really looking me up and down, but he was talking all the time. Not about me, that was clear and I don’t think he even realized he was staring or that I was looking at him. It was unnerving and all I could think was that I must have a huge grease spot or worse down my front. He suddenly caught my eye as I smoothed down my top. His eyes followed my hands and back again to my face. I was mortified. He would only think I was trying to give him the eye or something equally, hideously suggestive. If only I could go home.
Josh came back over to the bar then, picked up our drinks and smiled. ‘Shall we sit outside?’
We settled ourselves opposite one another on a bench-table in the little patch outside, where the profusely stuffed hanging baskets considerably cheered up the view of the disparate backs of the houses down Pulteney Street. One of the fascinating things about Bath’s architecture is how the rear of buildings differ so much, rambling all over the place, quite unlike their neat, classical fronts. Well, they held a particular fascination for me now. I didn’t know where else to look. It was becoming apparent that Josh’s eyes were now studying my face, but I couldn’t spend all afternoon looking at Pulteney Street. Our eyes met.
‘I hope you don’t mind me saying so, Sophie, but you do look very lovely today.’
How could I mind? Wouldn’t anyone love to be told that they looked very lovely? Even if something about the way he said the words reminded me so much of Charles. The thought and everything connected with Charles seemed like a recollection to a dream I’d once had sitting here in my modern world. The frustrating thing about this double life I was leading was that one blotted out the other with alarming rapidity. Those feelings that I’d never really travelled backwards or forwards through time and that it was all part of some trick being played by my mind were rising again.
I muttered my thanks and took a large gulp from the glass of iced white wine I was drinking.
‘How’s the exhibition coming along?’
‘It’s going really well. Actually, I was going to ask you something, but I’m not sure you’d really be interested.’
The April sunshine suddenly felt unseasonably hot. I felt a trickle, like a teardrop of liquid slide down my spine.
‘Oh? Ask away.’
‘There’s to be a launch party.’
He’s going to ask me if I’ll waitress or something, hang coats, I thought, wondering how on earth I’d be able to get out of it.
‘It’s a party for the exhibition. I wondered if you’d like to come.’
My first instinct was to summon up some excuse, but then I thought that wouldn’t be very fair of me. I wanted to see the exhibition and perhaps I’d meet some new people. I didn’t feel like meeting anyone, to be honest, but I’d spent too many years reading magazines telling lonely women how to improv
e their social life. Even knowing that people only talk to the people they know at a party, wouldn’t shift the idea that I might meet someone just as lonely who could cheer me up.
I couldn’t help the picture of Lucas and Lily surfacing in my mind. The moment when I’d realized that the two people I trusted most in the world had betrayed me flashed before my eyes. I’d blamed myself at the time, thought the fault lay with me and I’d felt compassion for their plight even as I’d witnessed her slender arms clinging to his tanned body, both of them locked together in the writhing throes of passion. I was feeling really awful now. London beckoned.
‘Yes, I’d love to,’ I lied, and then thought about how I seemed to spend most of my time not being very truthful, either to myself or to anyone else.
‘I thought you’d like to see the portrait in situ amongst all the other exhibits and see it being admired, as surely it will be. And besides, there is to be another surprise, something I’ve not told you about.’
‘Oh, what is it?’ I was immediately intrigued.
‘I told you; it’s a surprise. My lips are sealed, even if you do agree to come. Will you? I’d love you to be there.’
I nodded with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. ‘That’s really kind, Josh.’
The sun suddenly felt very hot, triggering a whole box of reminiscences I’d thought were safely buried. I remembered last April on a day like this one, when I’d thought Lucas and I were so in love. Memories of lying amongst a carpet of bluebells wrapped in one another’s arms were so sharp; I could smell the heady perfume of the violet bells. But visions of Lucas and Lily blotted out the sea of blue, replaced by an ocean of billowing white sheets. He was kissing her tenderly, just as he used to kiss me.
‘Sophie, I know it’s none of my business, but you seem really sad.’
‘I’m fine, really,’ I said, until I noted the look of concern on his face and the kindness in his dark-fringed eyes. I felt tears pricking behind my eyelids. What on earth was the matter with me?
